The Heart of a Boy
by Septimus Butters
Summary: Harry is sick of being an outcast. While contemplating suicide, he meets a wonderful person who takes his breath away. A person who has always been there for him...


**Hey there, readers! I got a great reception for my last story, so thanks so much!**

**I hope you enjoy my second Harry Potter story!**

* * *

**The Heart of a Boy**

"Turn to page 501, class." sang Snape as he scraped at a greasy spot with his long dedo.

A bantam lad with scruffy noir hair and broken goggles groaned and hauled open his ample text book to the dictated page.

"Hope we don't get homework today!" he remarked to a flame-headed goon, Ronald Weasly.

Harry didn't try to hide his dissatisfaction for potions class, or his unwashed, unkempt and unattractive teacher. Hence, he rarely bothered to do the work and often shared disrespectful comments with his bosoms.

"Heh. Cor, Snape is such a blimp." Harry harked snootily. Ronald tittered with wanton glee, his snaggleteeth dancing in his blustery maw. A brassy lass named Hermonty made a gruff diss of the males' behaviour.

"Stop it!" she rodomontade, her bulgy eyes whirling, her bufty crow's-nest pelo spilling all over the table.

Suddenly, Snape wheeled over, his cape billowing like cumulonimbus on a stormy eve.

"Right, you hobbledehoys! Mr Potter, I heard what you said. I order you to vacate and go to the headmasters dwelling, pronto!" As he said this, the tots were sprayed with rancid spit and bits of spinach. Snape rarely cleaned his teeth or any other part of his anatomy and henceforth, he reeked.

Harry launched his big ass from his seat, knocking over several phials of onions in the process, and stamped his wonky clod.

"Good! I can't stand to be near you anymore!" he broached "You are as portly as a sod-house and olid to boot!"

He thundered out of the room as fast as his bloated shanks could carry him.

* * *

The pug-like whippersnapper scooted down the corridors, his face as sour as a lemon-fruit.

"Curse that grim waste! I hate him almost as much as I hate washing." He orated, clasping his muffin top in his diddy paws. His face was as red as a redcurrant, his pine opticals revolving in his pasty, spotty clock. As he arrived at the foot of the headmasters ascenders, he felt rather wishy and scairt.

"Yikes!" He verbalised, just as the stench of roast beef reached his nasal. A lank, willowy fellow descended the stairs, clutching a roast beneath his left armpit. It was Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy's snitty pater.

The proud prospero paid little attention to the dumpy dominatrix quaking in his fit-flops at the rump of the stairs as he thundered towards the door.

Harry, on the other hand, was paying a great deal of attention to this undulating fiend of a visitor. He took in the lengthy ochre wig and strap-on goatee, the wily squinting peepers, the macho, glistening cheeks.

Unable to let this mysterious daspygal slip away, Harry armpit-farted casually to get Lucius' attention.

"Hello, Sire!" Harry quaffed, grimacing.

"Ew." Said Lucius, holding his roast protectively. "I am here on serious business, so go away, you juvenile leper."

"What kind of business?" Harry wheezed, spitting enthusiastically all over Lucius fine velvet camisole, his buggy specs slipping down his oily snout.

"Well, I have heard some… unacceptable rumours about my son. Professor Dumbledore gave me this fine loin as compensation."

"Heh. Loins." Harry snorted.

Lucius scowled and tightened his hunting belt, which was strung with rotting garlic and shrunken heads. "Keep away, you pondweed puer."

"Oh sorry!" brayed Harry, adjusting his skort vigorously and giving Lucius more knowledge than he needed about Harry's lack of enthusiasm for dental hygiene. "Just making a joke!" he gassed flirtatiously, pointing to Lucius' groin with a suggestive raise of his brows.

Lucius, who was in the middle of taking a sip of squash from his water-skin, coughed violently, spraying his mouthful out at great force.

"How dare you!" He spat. "My undercarriage is my business!"

"What about your wife?" quizzed Harry, dribbling at the thought of Lucius engaging in marital action. "How else would you conceive your son?"

Lucius was enraged. "Draco is adopted!" he lied blatantly, desperate to reduce his embarrassment.

"Oh, right! So, you must be a virgin then." Harry quipped, elbowing Lucius in the glutes. Lucius felt a strange sensation run through his corpus at the touch of the callow runt. The sarong he was wearing under his cloak began to feel quite tight.

"Eh? Eh? EH?" Harry blipped, his elbow ricocheting between Lucius buttocks and his spindly ribs at breakneck speed. Lucius blushed furiously, his sallow visage turning the colour of raspberry fool.

Meanwhile, Harry was rather enjoying the feel of Lucius tender tush beneath his pointy stump. It was gelatinous and lumpy, like old custard.

"Custard bottom!" cried Mr Potter. Lucius blushed with fury. His wobbly bottom had always been a sensitive subject for him, and he hated having this rude dong take the piss out of him. Despite this, the ancient Malfoy had to admit that Harry's devious grin and hot thunder-thighs were turning him on to the point of no return. What if Harry's comment was really a flirtatious compliment? Lucius vibrated intensely at the thought of this, sending deep ruminations through the floor.

"Heh. Well, you smell of custard!" he threw back in a tragically weak attempt at flirting. It worked on Harry, though, as spit gushed out of his gob in a tidal wave of pleasure. As Harry spurted saliva, Lucius realised something. He was in love with Harry. He had been ever since he spotted him beating up his "adopted" son in the corridors in Draco's first year. There was no going back now.

"So…um…babe. Wanna, erm… kick it?" Lucius asked, his toucan-esque nose obscuring his face. Harry blinked, his damp clam agape with confusion.

"I mean…you…erm…that is, we…Damn it, Mr Potter! I want to have sex with you!" Lucius squawked, before he could stop himself.

Harry farted with shock, lifting his stubby pins 3 inches from the ground. "You do?"

"I..I.."

"Well, sure! It seems you've been inspired by your son, then." Harry gave what he thought was a seductive and suave smile, when really he looked like an elephant seal in full battle mode. Lucius was horrified. "How'd you know about that?"

"Are you kidding?" Harry gave a 'knowing' glance, as if Lucius was a small toddler "He told everyone. Him and Filch sit together at breakfast. They're an item."

"What? He has been shaming the glory of the Malfoy clan behind my back? Well, I shall give him a taste of his own medicine." Lucius beat his chest.

He lurched forwards, intending to snog the petite bairn right on the chin, but Harry jumped sideways and Lucius went crashing to the floor, his plump buns flashing as his cloak billowed.

"I don't kiss my lovers." Harry sniffed, as though he were an experienced hooker rather than a greasy desperate hobbledehoy.

Lucius looked up, his strap-on goatee skewwhiff on his proud chin. "Let's get to it, Mr Potter." He broached lewdly, carelessly tossing his roast aside. "We just need to find a bed."

"I think I know where we can find one!" Harry vocalised.

* * *

Harry and Malfoy cycled through the school, hand in hand, until they came to the stairs of the Slytherin Common room. They had used Hermione's time-turner to make it night so their safe rendezvous would be more romantic. The chunky couple thundered down the ramp, giggling and puffing with excitement.

"In here!" Harry wittered, gesturing to a dank door marked ": Potions"

The chosen one and the aged wanker slipped into the foul chamber and leapt onto a chintz chaise-longue that was covered by a bulging heap of damp, musty anoraks. This was the bed of the half-blood prince, but its occupier was nowhere to be seen.

"HALLELUJAH!" chanted Lucius, straddling a pink cagoule and gnashing his teeth enticingly.

Harry forced his fat loins through a rubber-ring for Lucius's entertainment.

Suddenly, the lovers caught wind of subtle din emitting from the vertex of the room. The entangled twosome whipped their tetes around to the source of the fastidious clanging. Lucius's eyes widened at the sight of a small bamboo screen in the corner of the room, which was shaking and appeared to be making a cacophony of squelching and grunting noises.

The doddery death-eater sprang from the groaning divan, his gams al-fresco, and marched over to the offending play.

Lucius whipped away the screen to reveal Snape, squatting over a small chamber-pot and wiping his bottom on his cloak.

Shock and rage flashed in the eyes of the nauseating Caliban, as he drew his wand with a furious cry.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" The pestilent hawk screeched.

* * *

The bothersome skanks hit the deck with wails of fright, clutching at their genitals with finesse. Severus bellowed Unforgivable Curses, his hooves flailing.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!" he roared, his nose swaying like a ships flag in a gale. "CRUCIO!"

"AVADA KEDAVRA! CRUCIO! CRUCIO! IMPERIO! AVADA KEDAVRA! ABRACADABRA! BIBIDI BOBIDI BOO! CRUCIO! WINGARDIUM LEVIOSA! AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Spells were ricocheting off every surface in the heinous crib, and burned-out anorak pieces were flying everywhere.

"Oh, Harry! Whatever shall we do?" Lucius' eyes gleamed like fresh oysters and his scabby mitts clutched at Harry's firm mutton. Encouraged by his vulnerable bulb's chickenheartedness, Harry sprang up from the terra firma like a humpback whale from the Pacific, his flippy fins gleaming in the candlelight, his spurs as hairy as a brown bear.

"BOMBARDIA!" Mr Potter sang, aiming his wand carelessly towards the bitter hag Snape. The spell exploded sensually from the wand and sailed through the air towards the tasteless beast. Unfortunately, Harry had the aim of a senile star nosed mole, and the spell nosedived.

Directly into the tureen of dung, which exploded.

KABOOM!

* * *

A tidal wave of liquid poo erupted from the destroyed urn, crashing through the room and hitting Snape with such force he was swept out of the door by a torrent of his own filth.

"Accio surfboard!" yodelled Harry Potter. A suave, streamlined board came swooping in, clocking Snape over the head and putting an end to his dismal life once and for all. Harry leapt up and straddled the board, not caring about his dissatisfactory prof's demise. He swerved gracelessly like a tuna on an iceberg, as he surfed the tidal wave of stenchy poo, holding his arms out like the Angel of the North. He touched down and fell headfirst into the pool of dung, overbalancing due to his awkward bell bottom.

Lucius emerged from underneath his covering of anoraks. He had escaped the worst of the foul blast and was clean apart from a small spattering of dung on his forehead.

Harry, on the other hand, had not fared so well. Coated in the waste of his late least favourite teacher, he was almost invisible against the excrement-splattered walls.

"Don't look at me!" the Boy who Lived begged his friend with benefits, desperately trying to wipe the dung off his glasses.

However, Lucius was not at all put-off by his bootilicious plaything's sticky transformation. He strode over to Harry and embraced him, his bottom wobbling so violently the roof fell in, sending thousands of onions tumbling down from Snape's classroom above.

Harry turned to Lucius and lustily caressed his life like strap-on.

"I think ochre is really your colour." He broached, fluttering his optical lashes.

"I have more than one ochre wig." Lucius gasped. He removed his tapir coloured sarong to reveal a dapper, crocheted, ochre pubic wig, covered in glitter and ribbons.

Harry was so proud he cried. Lucius smiled tearfully "I'm so glad you support me in my decision to wear a pubic wig. So many people have shunned me in the past. I love you, Mr Potter."

Harry pinged the pubic wig, making sparkles fly across the room. "It's so beau, Lucius."

"I'm so happy for all of us!" Lucius rapped, shaking his booty.

The scarecrow and his servant let out cries of delight and rejoicing as they gyrated in the primordial soup of Snape's bowels.

* * *

Professor McGonagall was on corridor duty. As she passed Snape's boudoir, she thought she heard merry singing and creaking bedsprings. As she stopped, she was sure she could smell frying onions. Then she shrugged and walked away.

"It's probably just the wind." She broached.

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**Thanks for reading! I'm so glad Harry finally found true love and happiness, though I nearly cried at Snape's heroic death.**

**Love Septimus xx**

**P.S. If you like, check out the prequel 'Coming of Age' on my profile! :)**


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